Flows Ever Forward
by TenTenD
Summary: Life has a way of settling all matters. It may at times seem difficult and daunting, but with enough effort, endurance and acceptance, all things settle. Post-Jinchu. A look into the peaceful times ahead. AM KK HO
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I've recently rewatched what has to be the anime that made the greatest impression of me as a child. I've always carried some affection for Rurouni Kenshin and its characters. This is a decision long in the making, but I feel like I must write this story - a story centered around growing up and moving on and forward. We know to some extent what fate reserves for these people, but we know relatively little of how they get there. _

_With that in mind, I am looking to write a softer transition, more so because the works on the site so far, while heartwarming, charming and sometimes copiously funny, work to show the brilliance of young, fresh and often idealistic minds. I, on the other hand, want to explore a little more the grey areas, the uncertainties and the unsure steps one takes from childhood to adulthood, from relative independence to the willing shedding of it in favour of commitment and ultimately to explore what I find to be compelling relationships and dynamics. _

_This story will focus mainly on Misao and Aoshi, Hiko and Omine and Kaoru and Kenshin, naturally._

_While this first chapter is somewhat shaky, I hope as I grow more comfortable with these characters, to do a better job._

* * *

She held the cup to her lips with a gentle hum. Misao's eyes narrowed in Omine's direction. "What will you do?" she asked the questioned in a carefully controlled voice. Leaning forth in anticipation of an answer, Misao was somewhat surprised to feel the heavy layer of her garment press against her chest. A small sigh left her as the other woman took a sip of her drink; the trouble with such garments was that no matter how she tried, she always felt rather like a child attempting to imitate her mother. Looking away and down, her eyes fell to the black and golden obi with its bright floral pattern. She wanted Omine to have some manner of plan, not only because she wished for her happiness, but because ultimately, Misao knew, example of success made all the difference, especially where she was concerned. After all, she could not help it that awareness had a force beyond her wildest imaginings.

"What can I do?" her companion murmured into her sake cup. "The truth is," she continued, putting down her drink, "I do not know very much except that I cannot give up." What could she say to that? Kaoru might have had some words of encouragement, but Misao had but a nod. Not giving up had served her well in the past; she pushed away the memory of the one time she had been prepared to let go of what mattered most to her. A light shudder ran down her back.

Someone cleared their throat. "Why, the two of you look rather glum," Omasu noted, joining them at the table. Omine reached without a word and poured her a cup of sake. "I take it your courage has fled yet again. My, my; this is rather concerning." Though the words were said with feeling, there was equal parts amusement in that statement. Still, in her kindness, Omasu elected to steer clear of further probing. "Misao-chan, have you reached a decision yet?"

"I do want to help out." Things had settled a great deal since their return to Kyoto. She missed Kaoru a great deal, more so because their struggles had held a thread of similarity which made her quite comfortable to confess to, and she hoped that matters took a good turn for her friend. Or rather she had the confidence that they would. "But I think I still need some time." How did one let go of some things without unsettling others? The question knocked about in her head for a few moments.

"You will find your answer eventually," came the understanding tones of Omasu, her confidence apparently undaunted, which in turn made Misao smile. "Until then, do be a dear and take Okina his tea. He will be glad to see you." Finally garbed in clothes befitting a young lady of her age and station, went what was left unsaid. In fact, Okina had been only too glad to spend a goodly sum on her newfound passion and indulged her heartily.

With that in mind, she found she could not grumble at the prospect overlong. Standing to her feet in somewhat slow a fashion, she took a moment to meet Omine's gaze. Raiding her chin almost imperceptibly, she decided she would speak from the heart. "I am not prepared to give up either." And she said no more.

Taking herself to the kitchens with a measured step, Misao set about preparing the tea, well knowing she need not bring more than a cup. Okina preferred sake. It was out of courtesy he accepted the routine; and perhaps the familiarity was soothing. Misao knew she found it so. To know that she could wake every day and expect that she would take Aoshi-sama his tea and then potter about in the kitchens between bites of some tasty treat or another. Then she might train or take long walks before she had to return and give a hand once more, only after taking Okina his own cup of tea. Evening would come soon after and then night. On and on; relief flooded her, widening her smile.

With a skip in her step, she settled the tray down and knelt by the shoji, knees abraded by the hard wood beneath them. "Jiya, I have brought you your tea." He invited her in without hesitation and she followed through with her mission, settling so at his side so that she could comfortably watch his profile as he worked. They sat in silence for a time, her shifting uneasily in thought, he, preoccupied with whatever document he perused.

At long last, having surely taken notice of her discomfort, Okina called for her attention. "You need not keep me company, Misao. I am certain you have other," he paused, as though searching for the proper term, "matters," he settled for in the end, "to attend to." She hesitated and he gave her his full attention. "Go on then; what ails you?"

Again, she took a moment to speak. "Jiya, how do you persuade someone to accept your love?" Okina was not by nature a blithely trusting man. He was neither blind. Misao might have exerted herself to explain then that she spoke not of herself, but doing so meant she would betray Omine, who had not seen fit to make mention of her feelings in such a direct manner. She could only hope that whatever he thought of the question, he would answer.

The elder must have sensed the heaviness of the query for he did not attempt to probe her. "Matters are never that straightforward, dearest." She stiffened at that. "You can love strongly and deeply and yet never have even a fraction of it returned."

"Is there truly no way?" She understood well and truly no one could coerce the heart; she wasn't asking for that though. "A chance is enough. A chance to be listened to. Is that so beyond possible?" Misao felt that he was studying her, not needing eyes to determine the intensity of his stare. It burned, the pleasant tingle burrowing deep into her skin. Her fingers twitched.

With speed beyond his years, Okina caught her trembling hand in his own, the warmth and pressure steadying her. "But that chance is already there; all one has to do is reach out." He patted her hand. "Say, Misao," he began in a gentle manner, but whatever it was he wanted to say was lost as the moment shattered with a loud sound coming from beyond the thin wall.

The shoji opened slowly. Omasu, kneeling with a grimace on her face, apologised for interrupting. "Okina, your presence has been requested by Hirota Tadao." Misao stood along with Okina, determined that she would attend the two. "Misao-chan, you needn't take the trouble; I am sure Ochika will happily see to their needs."

"Not at all," she responded, looking down at the young woman. "Hirota-san is an honoured guest. It would be odd indeed if the daughter of the house did not see to her duties." After all, she told herself that Megumi's advice had been given in good faith and she had better make an honest attempt while she still could. Her mind went over the words once more, the words that had troubled her until she could not even sleep undisturbed.

Hirota Tadao looked even older than her Jiya, if that were possible. He was a small, balding man, bent-backed and bespectacled, with a deeply lined face. Yet his smile was kind. Jiya often said that he'd known the man before he'd known himself, whatever that meant, and treated him well whenever he stopped by, which was not that often to begin with.

The Aoi-ya was not overly crowded. There were a few patrons, but it was mostly families with sporadically homogenous women groups here and there. Misao paid them little mind as she made for the table in the corner nearest to the entrance. Hirota's greeting was short and rather perfunctory. He did look her over with something like a twinkle in his eyes before remarking rather cheeringly, "She has grown ever closer in looks to Yoshie." Eyes widening at the mention of her mother, Misao very nearly forgot the purpose of her joining them. "Come closer, child, so I may better see you."

Obediently, she neared, inclining in a show of proper respect. The man made a soft sound, almost a snort that she could not help cracking a smile to. "Do let's not speak of that," Jiya interrupted. Misao caught the tail end of a gesture when she looked at him. "Misao-chan, be so kind as to bring us some sake."

She obeyed that as well, struggling to walk calmly to the kitchen. Only in the safety of those surroundings did she allow herself to raise a hand to her face, pressing it to her cheek ever so gently. Makimachi Yoshie was not a shadow that often felt upon her; she could not even remember the woman's voice. Swamped with sentiment, her vision blurred for a moment. Just as soon, she chided herself for a fool, doubly so when she heard Kuro's concerned voice calling her name.

"I am well," she assured him, "just a bit of dust." Making a show of rubbing her eyes, she then proceeded to arrange her tray for easy delivery. In no time, she entered the fray once more, placing herself between the two men with a soft murmur of, "I shall pour."

And pour she did. They spoke of inconsequential mattes for a time. They shared some memories as well, telling her some incredible tales; much exaggerated for comedic effect, she did not doubt, laughing into the sleeve of her kimono to hear them. She ought to have taken on such duties a lot sooner; had she known it would be as it was, she would have. But then the past was immutable. Conversations drifted on around her and when there was no longer anything to be shared with her, she took her leave with a gently bow and a wish that they remain as they were. A notion had occurred to her at some point, which would not leave her be, and she hurriedly made her way into the inner yard.

Omine was resting against one of the posts, her bright kimono lightly dusted at the hem. When she took notice of Misao, she straightened slightly and patted the open spot next to her. "Were you looking for me?"

"Indeed I was," she replied, slyly siding over until they were a mere hairsbreadth apart. "I was thinking you could join me on the morrow." A mere spark on interest was enough to set her off, "Or rather I do want you to walk a while with me and then take the matter of my errand into your own hands."

Cocking her head to the side, Omine gave her a dubious look. "What are you planning?" Nothing nefarious, although she supposed that would never satisfy as an answer. Instead, she shrugged her shoulder, looked about in a rather theatrical manner and once assured of their relative privacy, she leaned in.

"Promise not to tell?" A hesitant nod followed. "I mean to visit Arai Seiku." A confused look crossed Omine's face at that particular bit and Misao felt only the slightest bit guilty about her lie. "I want to procure some knives for the kitchens."

"We have more than enough knives," the other pointed out, though in a resigned voice.

She laughingly pushed the words away. "Well, we shall have much more than enough then." She would not fail her family; not when she might exert herself and bring them joy. "Now, I shall do my best to make it back to you in timely fashion, but if I do not arrive in time, do wait for me by that small shop we visited the last time. You might as well choose a new pattern for yourself. Winter is soon to come."

"Will you be doing some choosing as well?" Misao blinked at the question.

* * *

_"A man cannot be expected to look at a child and feel anything but amused affection; it would be wrong otherwise, do you understand?" _

Misao woke with a start, the memory of Megumi's words burning like a brand. She looked about her chamber with bleary eyes, attempting to drive the uncomfortable feeling away. No matter how she shoved and pushed, however, she did not manage much but to further aggravate her already frayed nerves. To lie back down and toss and turn needlessly did not appeal to Misao, thus she decided it would be far better to have herself an early start.

She climbed to her feet, pushing the heavy blanket away. Her morning routine went along smoothly, a tad slower with the change in wardrobe, but she found she could not complain by the end of it and was much surprised to find that effort coupled with a positive result brought her satisfaction alongside joy. She peered into the small mirror she had procured not too long ago as her fingers worked on braiding her hair tightly out of the way.

Amused affection, her mind toyed with the notion. Megumi had a point; and she had encouraged just such feelings in an attempt to capture what had been so long ago. It was an easy role to fill, a gap she could fit herself to so much better than attempting to find another part for herself. She would have asked Aoshi himself what the proper course of action was, except that she herself was not entirely certain what she wanted. It was a matter to consider with care, not only because she wanted to be by the man's side, but because she yearned for his happiness.

Breathing in slowly through her nose, she looked at her reflection. "I, Makimachi Misao, will not be cowed by uncertainty. I will search for an answer and I will find it." She nodded, so as to strengthen her point.

Afterwards, she somehow managed to make her way to the kitchens. She prepared breakfast while she was there, eyeing the darkening skies with a tad of frustrated disappointment. The sake brewer lived quite a ways from them and she did not relish making her way through the downpour. Ought she put the matter off for the day? Or might she press on and hope for the best? Her musings continued as she looked behind her to see Shiro and Kuro enter, calling out their morning greetings to her. She offered her own and they silently fell into aiding her. Before long the table was set and the inhabitants of the Aoi-ya dragged themselves from their beds.

Even Aoshi came down, seating himself at the table. Conversation broke out, as was the natural course of their early meals, slow and drawling, more filled with sleep-fog and relaxation. She quite liked it. Misao reached out for some egg, jerking slightly when her knuckles brushed the familiar hand of the object of her faithful affection. Looking up at him with an embarrassed smile, she was not particularly surprised to see him nod at her. She picked her favoured morsel and beat a quick retreat just as Okina shot a question her way.

"And what are your plans for today, Misao?" She did not know that she could read anything nefarious in his gaze, but still she drew out the time by taking a bite of her food and swallowing before she answered.

"Ochika and I have decided to go to the market," she responded. "The weather is beginning to turn already." Her comment was met with a few nods of approval. "Omasu, I believe you've a list prepared?" The woman nodded without hesitation.

Thus exhausted, the topic of her plans was dropped in favour of more general conversation until they were done with the meal and the dishes were cleared away. Soon enough they would open and she might see where Aoshi had seated himself and take him his tea. He did that more and more often, she knew, meeting with some contact or another. Once upon a time, the Oniwabanshu had been of great service to the country; their dwindling number did not preclude the possibility of further service, although in what capacity former glory could be recaptured was debatable. Since Misao did not have much of an answer yet as to what path she wished to embark upon, she had no qualms about allowing Aoshi to have back his former title, secure in the knowledge that he had learned a lesson he would never forget at the hands of Himura Kenshin.

It was with such thoughts that she took him his tea, setting the cup gently before him. "Are you expecting anyone today?" she questioned, more so to hear him speak than anything else. He would give her the barest of details from time to time.

"Not today. Things are quiet." She got the sense that he was pleased with that. Misao let the matter drop with a curious smile.

"Very well." Having no desire to wait around until other patrons gathered, she left for the safe haven of the kitchens where she found Omine picking up the bigger of their baskets. "That will do very well," she said, hurrying the other along. "Come now before it turns to rain."

And off they went. Misao linked her arm with the other's, steering the both of them along the familiar path. Omine was quiet, pensive even, so Misao did not attempt to draw her out. Instead, she spoke of her own plans and hopes, such as wishing to receive a letter from Kaoru about the state of her domestic arrangements. She was dying to know how matters progressed along. She also wished to find some pleasant incense to take to the others before the frozen earth made such offerings much harder to give. Lastly, she wished to know whether Jiya had something planned. "The way he looked at me; I swear I could hear the cogs turning in his head."

* * *

_End notes: I hope this has been somewhat entertaining, although I should warn that I like exploring the characters' inner world best and as such my (potential) readers should expect it to be a integral characteristic of the story._

_Thank you for taking the time to read._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Now I know Megumi comes across as something of a plot-device; however, I do think she is the most mature of the female cast and the most likely to see matter, shall we say, clearly. Given her somewhat abrasive nature, I also think she'd be the least likely to sugarcoat things. This chapter plays a bit into Kaoru's fears, more so to tie them with what I make of her previous experiences. This is all speculation, of course, as we know very little about Kamiya Koshijiro, however, we do have the timing moire or less. Kaoru was born in 1860, about seven years into the Bakumatsu. Assuming drafting works more or less the same and given the standing of the Kamiya family, I believe this means Kaoru saw little of her father until his return in 1868 - now going by conventional child psychology, she would not have had the necessary time to build those early bonds with him and would naturally be reticent to accept him. Having said that, for the purpose of this story, she learned that he was a good man and in the end loved him only to suffer greatly when he left again.  
_

_Without going too deeply into it, in this story her accepting Kenshin is a correction on her part. When her father returned, he was not the man she expected him to be and she rejected him. Older being when meeting Kenshin and with the regret of having let her father take off without ever making her changed feelings plain, she was acting out an attempt at atonement. When Kenshin left, she would of course conflate it with the earlier situation of her father leaving. _

_I am probably nowhere near the truth with the analysis, but that is alright as far as I am concerned. Hopefully you will enjoy this take._

* * *

Megumi's laughter grated on her nerves. Kaoru shot the doctor a sharp look. "You needn't do that," she huffed into her tea. "I know I'm being silly." It wasn't as though it hadn't crossed her mind to reassess her stance every now and again. But having said what she had, Kaoru did not feel comfortable taking any of it back. Her father certainly would have told her to begin as she meant to go on and as far as she could tell, she had. Only that she wasn't too pleased with the results.

"And that," Megumi pointed out sagely, "is why you are as you are." One could almost see the fox ears and spindly whiskers. A sigh followed. "You do as you please, but do not think matters will simply righten themselves if you ignore them long enough."

The tea tasted like ashes on her tongue. "There isn't anything to righten." She knew it was a lie even as she spoke the words. Megumi's snort betrayed her disbelief. Redding in discontentment, Kaoru protested her innocence yet again to the apparent amusement of the doctor. Seeing no recourse but to put paid to the matter she somewhat harshly delivered, "I cannot see what difference it makes to you."

Something akin to annoyance flared on the older woman's face. "In some ways," she spoke, her voice even, "you are still such a child. If you cannot answer Ken-san's feelings forthrightly then you had best confess to it." As a general rule, Megumi did not waste time. She had neither the disposition, nor the patience to coax anyone into attempting feats of great sacrifice. She would not do so for her friend either. "That wishy-washy attitude of yours will not do. He has been clear. Isn't it time you were the same?"

But she hadn't been unclear. And she told the doctor as much. "On the contrary, I went after him, all the way to Kyoto." It was not a grievance, not precisely. Part of her did understand the reasons behind his choice. She would've continued were she not interrupted.

"You're doing it again." Megumi pushed her cup away. "Kaoru, there is no shame in not being ready yet. In fact, it'd be a great wonder if you were." The understanding she found in those few words caused a shiver of emotion. "Having said that, keep in mind that any marriage wherein the beginning is marred by mistrust cannot help but fail." Only Megumi would have been able to make such a point in that particular manner. "You say you hold no grudge, that you carry no anger and yet look at how tense you are now."

There was little use in lying to herself. "But I have decided to forgive." Wisps of steam curled on the air, trembling and dispersing with her movement of the cup. Kaoru closed her eyes, not against the tastes but against, that was still sweet.

"You ought to speak to Ken-san." Straightening, Megumi reached out gently until her hand rested on the edge of the table. "And if you cannot find it in yourself to forgive, you should tell him. This is not something to keep to yourself."

Unable to think of a single response to refute the woman's points, Kaoru let the matter drop. She did not enjoy Megumi's lectures. They made her feel even more a child and even less worldly than she usually did. Those were the words of a woman and Megumi had spoken to a girl. Someone like the doctor seemed to have such an easier time of accepting the imperfect nature of the world and it drove Kaoru insane that she herself mightn't do the same without a pang of guilt. What a terrible feeling that was.

And she could most definitely not bring such a subject up with Kenshin. She would not know what to say, how to explain the essence of her discomfiture and if one could be certain of anything then that was the fact the man would take it for something it was not. Better to just remain as she was. He'd asked her live with him in the new Meiji era and she had accepted. It had to be enough.

Whatever the case, Megumi took her leave after a time. She had patients to see to, she'd explained calmly, and could not afford to delay any further. And with that she had unceremoniously left Kaoru on her own, with little to do and much less to occupy her time with, except for the brief time it took to wash the teacups.

Yahiko was and would remain at the Akabeko for a time, doubtlessly to aid and protect little Tsubame and eat his fill while at it. Kenshin had yet to return from the market and she did not begrudge him the exeecise. As for herself, she had no students to see to, certainly not at such a late time in the day. The sun would set soon, a chill creeping in the air in spite of the warm glow bathing wood and grass and earth.

Seated on the porch, her feet dangling over the edge, Kaoru eyed the main gate. Indeed, she did not begrudge Kenshin his leisurely walks, except that she felt rather lonely in his absence, as though something essential were missing. And to think she had known him for so short a time, yet their bond was such that his absence rendered her nigh useless. Kaoru brought a hand over her fluttering heart. She pressed gently with some hope that such an action might bring her some semblance of relief. It was not to be. The bothersome organ squeezed painfully at the noisy creaking of the gate opening and Kaoru jumped to her feet, not even bothering with the stone step in her haste to climb down.

"You're back," she stated the obvious, hands reaching out to rest on his arm gently, barely there. The relieved note in her voice was difficult to suppress but she did her best for a cheerful smile. She wasn't upset with him for leaving that once, not anymore in any event. He was back, with her, where he belonged.

"This one is home, that he is," came his answer. Kaoru leaned into him for a brief moment. He was solid and steady and would not disappear on her. The warmth radiated off of him and into her. She longed to press her whole length alongside his and hold Kenshin closer still, but did not have the courage.

"Welcome home." She hoped the words conveyed what she could not otherwise show, yet turned her gaze away from him. He'd bought a fair load of groceries. Kaoru looked at the basket, considering what to put where. "Let us go in," she urged, "and put those away." He did not release his burden to her care even when she gently tugged on it. Understanding he would not do so even if she insisted, Kaoru resigned herself to climbing the stone step and entering. Kenshin moved noiselessly behind her; she still marvelled at it at times, his ability to move as a shadow might. And yet no matter how silent, she felt him still, an awareness of the heart. Once more she touched the bothersome spot.

"Kaoru-dono?" Startled, she jumped. Kaoru looked over her shoulder in a questioning manner. "Is something the matter?" The underlying concern gave her pause. Kenshin cared; she could not doubt that, at least. As to whether he cared in the same way as she did or he went along with what was expected in a bid to set her at ease, she found it difficult to tell, precisely because she couldn't convince herself she minded the reasoning behind his offer. At the same time, she was not easy not knowing.

Forcing herself to relax, she did her best to assuage his obvious fear. "Not at all; I was just thinking of something Megumi said." Something shifted in his gaze, but on the whole he seemed to accept the words as a satisfactory explanation. Kaoru hurried to build upon that foundation, "You know how Megumi is." His hum of agreement called forth a true smile from her.

They worked together to put the purchased foodstuff away. The mindless motions were easy to go through and Kaoru was thankful that conversation was not Kenshin's primary concern as she found some peace in the moment. Once done, they repaired to the chamber where Kaoru has entertained Megumi. She was glad she had disposed of the cups, but found she ought to have considered more thoroughly that cold tea was not precisely a favoured beverage.

"The tea," she muttered, about to pick the pot up when a hand gently covering her shoulder stopped her. "The tea is cold," she explained, more so he might let go. To her surprise, however, he did not comply. But then, she at times forgot just how commanding the man could be when he wished it.

"Leave it." It was instinct that guided her then to listen. Kaoru nodded carefully before sitting down, hands demurely in her lap after a short awkward dance of uncertainty. Kenshin seemed to have an easier time of it. Kaoru pursed her lips for a moment as she considered him. "What are you thinking of?"

She blinked. "I do not think I can put it into words." Not clear ones, in any event, and a muddled response was not much of a reply at all. "Suffice to say, I would not even know where to begin." She imagined a great many people would have, at that point, pressed her to make an attempt anyway. Not Kenshin; he met her claim with a gentle nod. Ever so carefully, he moved until he was seated next to her.

Before she might guess his aim, he put an arm about her shoulders, a rather daring gesture coming from him, and pulled her weight against his body. Seated as they were, her shoulder connected with his and she brought a hand up, thoughtlessly, to brace against his chest. There had been occasional touches between them, embraces of joy and comfort in the wake of some crisis or another. The hold he bestowed upon her in their empty house was different. It wasn't relief, although she thought she felt some of that. She did not think it was pity either. Rather, it was something akin to comfort but sharper, somehow hungrier. Awareness coursed through her, stiffening her limbs.

Kenshin drew back to her utter disappointment. "This one apologises, that he does, Kaoru-dono. It was meant to make you feel better, not disconcert you." It took her a moment to put meaning to his words, but as soon as she had, she threw her arms around him, not quite certain if she did it to keep from hitting him or to keep him from fleeing.

"Do not speak such words to me," she chided in a serious tone. "Had I not wished you to hold me, I would have said something." Her fist would have, to be certain. "It is simply that," she paused, leaning back slightly to better look into his face, "you are the first man to do it." He watched her back intently, the play of gold and violet in his gaze arresting. Swallowing her fears, she forged ahead, "I am still learning, therefore I might hesitate at times, but that does not mean I dislike it by any means."

To prove her point, she settled against him, feeling her face heat up. Kaoru assumed she was the red of ripe cherries by then, thus did her best to shield her visage. To think on the words she'd said made her blush harder still. It was a wonder her head did not explode. She wished, not for the first time, that she'd not lost her mother so young. A few words of advice would have done her all the good in the world. Tae, bless her heart, did her best. But Tae was an unwedded woman, who was bound to know just a tad more than Kaoru knew herself. For pity's sake, she had need of a matron in this.

She felt his chin settle atop her head as he leaned back against the wall, the movement bringing her with him. "This one is glad to hear it, that he is. For a moment," he trailed off, as though uncertain if he should unburden himself to her. She moved her hand against his shoulder and squeezed encouragingly. He made another attempt. "Certain matters once unveiled cannot be forgotten, that they cannot. Knowledge most especially. This one needs to remember the disparity therein, that he does." Was he trying to convince himself or her?

She would not pester him, Kaoru decided. Kenshin spoke of the past but seldom and with good reason. He had taken his leave of Tomoe in the truest sense but recently. She did not like to pry. But at the same time she was glad; pleased that he was willing to take her at her own pace, to consciously rein himself in. "Does it bother you at all?" she questioned. "Is it more difficult because you do know?"

The man took his time answering. "In some ways." She was glad for the honesty. It would have hurt her had he denied it. "But as for being bothered, this one finds irrelevant, that he does. Kaoru-dono has already agreed to spend the reminder of her life with this one. There is no more to ask for, that there is not." Her poor Kenshin, Kaoru mused as she burrowed her way deeper into the embrace. How he must think of himself to say such words.

"I want you to be happy," she told him in a decisive manner. "Better yet to be happy together; as happy as we are now." His hummed agreement soothed her. In the end, she pulled herself together and lifted her weight off of Kenshin. He let her go easily enough though his eyes did not leave her form even as she seated herself properly at his side. Kaoru waited for him to follow suit. "It is so quiet, is it not?" she commented, listening for the signing of the crickets, though she supposed they would not be hearing that particular symphony for much longer. Winter was sure to set in soon enough.

"Do you miss the noise?" She considered the question. Gaze into her lap, she blinked half-forgotten memories away. It was not the moment to become lost in that.

"In some ways; noise helps distract one, does it not?" She raised her head to look at him, feeling rather foolish for prattling off at him, "My father had students during the day, of course, but in the evening it was often just the two of us. He often worked on repairs later during the day. I would take care of the laundry. That sort of quiet is nice though." He gave her his attention, seeming to wish more from her. "I do not truly recall much of him before his return from the war. But I do not think he was the same; mother used to say he was a man whose smile could not be wiped off but he rarely smiled in those first years. He would just sit on the porch for hours on end, staring ahead. If mother had not fallen ill, I do not think he would have pulled himself together." She paused for a moment, looking at Kenshin for reassurance. "I did not find it easy to reconcile the man in my mother's stories with the one who'd come back from battle. I didn't particularly make it easy for him, I imagine, but he did his best to take care of his wife and daughter. It is easier to appreciate his actions now that I am older."

"Did you find it difficult because he had been gone for so long?" The question itself, she knew, was incomplete. Kaoru's fingers clenched into the folds of her kimono, the cloth thick and unyielding. She concentrated on breathing, willing herself to answer in a steady voice.

"That may well have been part of it. I did not know him at all for a long time and then when I did learn something of the man he was, the intensity of it left me uneasy. I was easiest with him when we cared for mother." She shifted, interrupting the flow of her speech. "And then he began training me; I was somewhat old to be just beginning, to be sure, but it was something to do beside sitting at my mother's side, twiddling my thumbs uselessly as she faded before my eyes." Kaoru sighed deeply. "The first time my father returned, I wondered why he had if he was simply going to ignore us. Now no matter how hard I wish it, he is not going to return."

Tears filled her eyes. Kenshin said not a thing; perhaps he knew words would not soothe her. Instead he took hold of her hand, squeezing gently. "There is no shame in shedding tears, that there is not." She wondered if he had noticed the thread, if he had noticed that she always seemed to somehow be left behind. She wondered if he would address it. Kenshin did not disappoint her. "This one will stay with you for as long as you wish it, that he will."

"Good; that is good," she managed after a time, squeezing back, albeit a bit too hard she did not doubt. "I will never want you to leave in any event, so that is just as well." He was smiling gently at her; she liked that kind of smile upon his face. It made her feel tremendously safe, as though she could weather everything and anything if he only continued to smile at her in such a manner. Yet she knew she ought not to keep him overlong; she had taxed him with her worries and he deserved, as she had said, some happiness and peace.

With that in mind, Kaoru opted for retreat. It would be rather difficult to tear herself away if she hesitated even further. "We should get some sleep," she noted, rising to her feet slowly. He was still holding her hand, looking up at her with an unspoken question. Kaoru shook her head. "Come, Kenshin, the night is growing colder and we've much to do on the morrow."

He accepted that, standing as well.

They parted ways. She felt better for having spoken to him.

* * *

"Hirota-san," Misao called out gently to the old fellow seated in the corner as she carefully balanced the weight of her burdens, "I see you have chosen to remain with us." Omasu, who was just coming out of the kitchens by the looks of her, offered to take some of the purchases off of her hands, which Misao gave up without a fuss. "Okon said she is taking hers straight to the kitchens," she spoke to the woman. The only possession she did not release was a jug of sake. With a smile on her lips, she moved carefully so that she might seat herself across the elderly man. "My apologies, you have caught me returning from the market."

"And what a pretty sight that is," he noted into his cup of tea. "Do not let me keep you from your duties, Misao-chan. I should hate for your Jiya to be cross with me." There was something in his voice just then, the same thing she'd heard when he spoke of her mother.

"Jiya will not mind; in fact, I believe he will be very pleased I am making myself useful." Leaning back, she offered a smile. "And I confess I am curious; you spoke of my mother, "Hardly anyone mentions her to me."

"Yoshie-san," he sighed, "aye, I can see that they would not." Misao frowned at that manner of reply. "She has been gone a long time now. Life is for the living, Misao-chan." It was not that she did not see the wisdom in such words that she still insisted on her way; she would like to know something of her mother."

"I dare trouble an honoured guest with my questions, but do so with a sincere heart." They sat in silence for a time. Misao struggled to keep a patient expression upon her face. She knew some of the story of her parents' lives, but at the same time a great deal of it was tightly bound in mystery. Her grandfather had died before she had any of the necessary capacity to understand even if she had been told and Jiya either did not know or did not care to enlighten her. Yet she wished to know, whatever it entailed; the good and the bad, all of it. "Did you know my mother well?"

Hirota put down his cup. "As well as any, I would guess. It was in the years during which I served with your Jiya that I was sent to Hokkaido, to the Ishikari Plain. They now call it Sapporo, but in those days it was a barely developed bundle of humanity. Still there were some wealthy families and more than a few willing to dip into the realm of politics. It makes perfect sense that ears were needed." He paused there and took a dip of his drink before clearing his throat. "By some accident of fate I was placed in the Ueno household. As you might well guess, the family had two children, Takeshi, the eldest, already a man grown, and Yoshie, a slip of a girl I was much surprised to learn was soon to wed."

Misao knew that part. Her father had been sent to Hokkaido for some reason or another and upon meeting her mother, he'd spirited her away from a much-loathed suitor. She'd not know her mother was to have wed the man. Keeping silent, she leaned in encouragingly. Hirota placated her by continuing, "Suffice to say, Yoshie-san caused her family a great deal of grief when she chose to run away with Hideki-san. I always hoped they were happy together."

A fan slapped against the edge of the table, breaking Misao out of her reverie. With a sharp sound she looked up to see Jiya and his troubled expression. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" he demanded of Hirota. "Misao, this was not the way I wanted you to learn of the past."

"Are you perhaps afraid?" Hirota cut in, "that she should grow to resent the interference?" To her utter astonishment her usually pleasant Jiya glared. "Misao-chan, this rift caused by Yoshie-san within her family is an old wound. Her brother would see it repaired, as much as can be. In this new era, old grudges should die."

Mouth falling in a slack oval, she found herself at a loss for words. She turned towards Okina. "Is there a reason, other than your wish I had learned of this in some other way, that I should not pursue this?" But she could see in the man's face that he had nothing to give her. No reason for which she ought to take a step back and let the matter drop, thus Misao looked back towards their guest. "My mother's brother, this uncle of mine, what precisely does he wish for?"

"The chance to know you. Here," he spoke, retrieving a folded piece of paper from his sleeve, "for you." She reached out with trembling fingers and took what had to be a letter. Misao opened it gently, peering down at the elegant script. She did not concentrate on reading for the time being, but rather on the craft which went into formal missive. "Nenji, you ought to read it as well. Takeshi-sama is aware you are acting as Misao-chan's guardian."

It was then that she began reading. Misao had never considered herself a hard-hearted woman. She found it easy to let emotions sway her and easier still have them well up within her. It was then little wonder that from the first few lines, she was struggling to contain her tears. To say that the letter was one of much tenderness and unbridled hope would not do it justice. She recognised in the writer something of herself. The wish to reunite what ought to be kept together.

"I do not understand," she said in the end, folding the missive with great care, "why now? Why not when my parents had died, why not a year ago or five or seven?" Much as she felt, she was no longer a child to be swayed only by emotions.

"The old master is dying; I believe he would make peace on his deathbed. He wants to see what remains of Yoshie-san." Misao bit into her lower lip at those words. Her first instinct was to refuse; and yet, she had not turned her back on greater atrocities.

Rising to her feet, she bowed to the man. "Hirota-san, I need some time." It was the wisest thing she could think to say. She knew who she wanted to approach with the news, and she knew she had to do it fast before her courage left her.

The response was deemed acceptable and she left the two men conversing in low tones. Misao knew not where she would find Aoshi. She searched the gardens and his office, gently tapped on the frail frame on the shoji impeding her from seeing into his chamber and lastly made her way the small space used for practice. It was there that she found the man, kodachi in hand.

Loathe to interrupt when he was in the middle of what appeared to be a complex exercise, she seated herself of a cushion and admired the motions he went through, doing her best to take not of the finger points she could discern. Her wait was not long, not that she minded. Aoshi, having likely been aware of her arrival, ended his attack and put aside his weapons, reaching out for a towel as he watched her. "What brings you here, Misao?"

"I need some advice from a clear pair of eyes." She held the letter out to him with both hands, body leaning into a bow. This was a request; she ought to put her all into it. A moment passed before he took her burden from her. Misao lifted her head so as to better watch the man while he perused the lines. Once finished, he sat down next to her, passing the letter into her care. It was clear that he was listening for her worries, expecting that she would not need more prompting. Misao took a deep breath before speaking, "What do you know of my mother's family?"

"They hail from Hokkaido, more specifically the Ishikari Plain. Your maternal grandfather is a man of some means, albeit his support of the Shogun during the Bakumatsu made his position rather difficult. I understand his son is somewhat of a scholar." He seemed somewhat uncomfortable. "Misao, I–"

She shook her head at that. "Would I be exposing myself to harm if I were to consort with them?" He gave her the expected answer; that he could see no reason why she should come to any harm. "Then why is everyone so very ill at ease? How am I to take that?"

"There is some difficulty between the families." Misao assumed he spoke of the elopement. She told him what Hirota had said by manner of refutation. But he surprised her with further knowledge. "Old Ueno has long since forgiven his daughter; he even took her back in after her husband's death. But the Okashira would not be parted from you. He forbade any further interaction once he'd retrieved you."

Misao took a moment to think his words through. "Are you saying my mother's family would have been perfectly willing to look after me, yet the Okashira chose to place me in the care of what was effectively a stranger?" He did not respond to that, after all, what could he say? Reining in her ire, knowing she could gain but little by it, Misao continued, "Surely after he died, the new Okashira might have seen the wisdom in placing a child he did not wish involved in the Oniwabanshu in the care of a family with no ties to such."

"I was tasked with looking after you. As for the other, it was the wish of my Okashira; I would not have felt right to disregard it." She could have screamed with how angry she was. Misao bit her tongue instead. "You were a child; such knowledge would not have helped you in the least."

"I was alone," she protested with feeling, wincing to her the loudness of her own voice. Tempering herself some, she tried once more, "You left me and I was alone." He looked as though he might speak, so she held her hands up. "Pray do not; I know you could not have taken me with you. I understand. But I was still alone, abandoned without a word of warning. Okina and the rest were kind. But they weren't my family." She held his gaze. "I think I can understand a bit of how my mother's family feels." She bowed to him until her forehead nigh touched the ground. "Okashira-sama, I beg you to reconsider."

Hands grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to rise. "Take someone with you, if you would go." She softened against him at those words. He left her go then, continuing, "I would rather you not stay overlong, if it can be helped."

Lower lip trembling, Misao forgot herself for a moment and caught one of Aoshi's hands between her own. "I only meant it a little bit as a reprimand," she said with candour. "Aside from which, I do not believe we will stay long at all. I still have Kaoru-san's wedding to attend. If Himura-san should screw his courage to the sticking place, that is." Then she caught herself when she gazed into his face. He must have been taken aback by her boldness. Misao patted his hand apologetically before releasing him. "That is to say, it is good and well to be on better terms with my mother's family, but it does not change my feelings towards any of you."

He made a noncommittal sound; she imaged more an acknowledgement than a response. But Misao was happy enough with that. She was, after all, easy enough to please.

* * *

_End notes: I can only hope this was satisfactory. I am aware there are some daring moves on Kenshin's part, but I also believe Kaoru would be accepting, especially as it is comfort on his part rather than anything else._

_Thank you for taking the time to read._


	3. Chapter 3

Omine was well aware she'd been staring at the sake jug for too long a time. Kuro, bless his heart, did not question her actions and with the exception of a furtive look or two had left her to her own devices. Misao had asked her what she would do and she'd said she would not be giving up. Beyond that it was difficult to come up with a plan of any sort. She could not, after all, be so shameless as to seek the man out and throw herself in his path. Nor could she screw her courage to the sticking place enough that she might make a clean breast of it and admit her feelings to his face. And if she could do neither, truly what right did she have at the existence she craved?

With a deep sigh she turned her back on the sake. Approaching the freshly washed vegetables, she picked up the large knife and began chopping. The task required little of her. Thoughts drifted, even as she changed the drip upon the knife, slanting it ever so gently. A clattering sound from somewhere behind her followed by a sharp little curse announced Shiro's return.

"What could possibly be amiss now?" the newly arrived man questioned, creating an even greater ruckus as he settled down his burden. "I swear it's quieter than a graveyard here." She shivered at the mention of such a resting place and shook her head, as though to dismiss an unwelcomed thought.

Looking over her shoulder, she pinned her friend with a stare. "Must you bring up graveyards?" Her hand, still halfway in the air, held the knife tightly. Only a fool chopped without looking; and she had cut herself enough times to learn her lesson. "Such morbid things you say."

"Truly, Shiro," Kuro agreed. "Still, it is awfully quiet." Ever the diplomat. Omine sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and looked away from the two, hoping they would not drag her into whatever conversation was to ensue.

As though her prayers had been heard by a merciful god, Shiro deflected the topic with a timely complaint regarding their sensitivity towards such mundane a thing as a graveyard. "It is not as though we are children, to fear it. Death is a natural consequence of life." Omine imagined him shrugging just then, the simple philosophy he'd presented most solid in its truthfulness. "By the by, Okon, Omasu said she could use a hand in the hall."

Stepping back from the cutting board, Omine abandoned her knife. She brushed her hands upon her apron and glanced downwards to make certain she was still presentable. Her hair was yet tightly secured, she could well feel when she brought a hand up to check, and all seemed well.

Picking up one of the trays left out to dry, she departed the kitchens. Her measured pace pressed into the wooden floorboards beneath her feet, beckoning forth creaks and croaks of protest. As it drew towards evening there always were more patrons, even if one might hope for a slow day every now and again. Omine surveyed the hall from where she stood, taking note of those present.

Very few were locals, but she could see half a dozen familiar faces. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped within, approaching one of the unattended tables. She bowed to the customers, two men young in years, finely dressed in if somewhat plain garb. They were clean and courteous. She asked after their choice of food and beverage, which they presented her with in short order.

Before she might make away, however, the one nearest her held one hand up. "Say, miss," he began, voice low and pleasant, in spite of its somewhat gravely quality and the heavy accent he bore, "would you happen to know where a fellow might an honest challenge for a hand of cards?" Tension sapped out of her shoulder as he finished his request.

Smiling down at him, she gave the directions towards the nearest gambling den she knew of. Not one to frequent such places, she hoped it would satisfy the two. The other reached in his coin purse and drew out what was supposed to be her payment, she did not doubt. The small coin was placed in her hand and she once more bowed to them before moving to another table.

This time, the sole patron occupying the space was known to her. "Tomoharu-san," she greeted the man with a smile. "You have not brought Eiko-chan today?" A shake of the head confirmed what she already suspected.

"I had some errands to run and thought it best that she remain with her aunt. Speaking of," he gestured towards the empty spot opposite him, "when you've a moment, I should like to have a word."

They were permitted upon occasion to sit with the patrons, especially if by request. How else was one to learn a thing or two? That said, Omine knew she would not have refused either way, if only for the sake of politeness. With that in mind, she allowed that she would return once she had fulfilled her duty.

Omasu approached her as they made for the kitchens, leaned in and asked, quite without shame, "I see you've caught someone's attention, have you not?" The smile upon her companion's face widened a fraction when she nodded in agreement. "Will you consider him?"

Could she afford not to? For the moment she wavered between choices. "We must all entertain such notions sooner or later." Yet she deliberately kept herself from doing so.

Time contracted as she moved about and before she knew it, late evening had arrived and patrons were standing to their feet, making readiness to leave. All but one. Omasu approached the table and sat herself down on the thin mat beneath her. She placed her tray to the side and offered a second greeting to the man, this one spoken as to something other than a customer.

They'd not been seated for more than a heartbeat's length when Okina came strolling in. He stared between the two of them for a brief moment and came to join their table. Sporting an expression rather more serious than his usual one, he asked after the suitability of their current accommodations. "If you would rather we took this to my office, we shall." It was not, it was understood, a formal occasion as such. Previous generations would have never permitted such a thing, yet the new era had worked towards a relaxation of the customs.

"Okina-san, my gratitude for agreeing to bear witness." Omine regarded the man as he exchanged pleasantries with the old retainer. They were evenly matched in height, though Tomoharu was broader and heavier-set. He would, she suspected, grow even heavier in his old age. But for the moment, there was little to complain of. Intelligent eyes in a somewhat rounded face stood above a straight nose. Lower still was a thin-lipped mouth. Omine's eyes fell to the man's hands as he accepted a cup of tea from Omasu as the woman knelt to serve them all. Long, elegant fingers with neatly trimmed nails and not a speck of dirt to be seen greeted her sight.

The men's conversation ran its course and attention turned upon her. "Omine-chan," Okina addressed her, his smile soft, lacking any connotations for once, "Tomoharu-san will speak to you now. I expect you shan't need me, but if you do, I shall be seated near the window. There are some ledgers needing my attention."

Nodding her consent, Omine patiently awaited Okina's departure before granting all of her attention to her prospective suitor. Wishing to put him at ease even as she saw him shift slightly, Omine softened her expression as much as was in her power. "I am listening."

"Omine-san," he began, voice somewhat faded. The man cleared his throat and made a second attempt, a small chuckle beside. "I fear you shall think very poorly of me indeed, should I persist in such a state. Nonetheless, I will admit to being rather nervous." They waited a beat in silence. When she did not jump in, he went on. "We have known one another for a good number of years now; I suspect you needn't hear of my current position, save for the fact that I have decided it would be wise to wed once more."

That made the rest of it rather obvious. "I am honoured I should be considered, but if I may; why is it that I am your choice?" With regards to marriage, Omine had precious little other than her own person to offer. Her parents had served the old, long-since dead Okashira, and she, as the daughter of faithful retainers, had continued in the same vein. It was understood and expected in those times that if she ever did wed, it would be to a man of the clan. The Meiji era had seen to changing those assumptions.

And Omine had come to understand, none too early, that outside the Oniwabanshu, the world operated with a very different set of rules. Had she a mother to guide her, she suspected she would have wedded into the clan once she came of age, except that her kin had died and she, left in the care of Okina, had along with Omasu, thrown herself into caring for Misao.

Shaking the thought away, she looked to Tomoharu for answers. "To be perfectly honest, it was seeing your young ward that decided the matter for me. You have raised her well, and I expect you would raise my Eiko well too." There was something to be said of a man's honesty. "That aside, I believe we could dwell well enough together, you and I." She blushed, her mind gently touching over what she knew upon such matters.

Omine knew not how he interpreted her expression, but found his steadying stream of words fortifying when Tomoharu did not let up. "Eiko will, of course, need some time to come to terms with such a change; that is, if you do accept." Surmising that a great deal had been beforehand discussed with Okina that she too might need to hear, Omine bowed before the man in gratitude before answering him quite from the heart.

"The matter is not clear yet to me and, if at all possible, I require time to think it over." That seemed to please her guest well enough, for his answer was accompanied with a smile when he allowed that it would be best. They spoke no more afterwards but lapsed into silence, which naturally attracted Okina. No mention was made of a decision when the men began conversing once more. Omine was excused to do as she pleased and she retreated, knowing that whatever came of it she'd hear from Okina when the moment was right.

It was Misao that awaited her in the inner garden, sitting on the porch with a blanket draped across her lap. As soon as the younger saw her, she leapt awkwardly to her feet, all in a rush to reach her. "Did you know anything about this?" Omine laughed at the eagerness of the question and answered her with the truth. "It is a good match, to be sure, but," Misao trailed off, gesturing vaguely with her hand. "Are you going to accept?"

The crux of the matter was that any acceptance she might give at the moment would be half-hearted. Could she do that to an unsuspecting man? "I would make him as good a wife as I could possibly be," she defended herself more to that inner voice whispering doubt into her ear than to her companion. "And in time I might even come to feel affection for him; that is the natural course of marriage." She looked to Misao as though for confirmation.

"The accommodations would certainly be better than anything the old grouch could give you." The words were teasing, spoken lightly, almost as though with conscious effort. "It is one thing to enter a marriage with no affection for the other; it could easily come to a point where love would grow, as you say. But to go to a man when your heart belongs to another, is that not a tad cruel? May I speak freely?"

Snorting, Omine nodded her head. "You always do."

"You ought to see him one more time, at least. Tomoharu-san is not a bad fellow, I grant you, and I should deeply regret his suffering and yours later on if you act rashly." It was a fair point. At times she forgot that Misao saw more than one thought and understood a great number of things most might not think she did. "Aside from which, I've already bought the sake and I will even come with you."

"You will?" She did her best not to allow her surprise to seep into the words. "Is that wise?"

"Two heads are better than one," the younger replied wisely. "Also, I paid good money for that sake. I want to have a taste." They both laughed at the remark. Nevertheless, Misao picked up her blanket, drawing it across her shoulders for added warmth. "Enough of this for now. On the morrow, let us go."

"You have my word." They took leave one of the other, each walking in the direction of their own chamber.

Omasu waited for her was well, albeit she had the patience to meet her in her own quarters, flickering candle well in hand. "Well then? Let us hear it."

Patiently following as Omasu guided, Omine sat down as the other settled behind her. She could feel her hair being gently drawn back as she spoke, "You were correct. He is interested in marriage." A soft tug let her know Omasu had begun working with her comb. "Even Misao says it is a good match."

"Misao said that?" Somewhere in those words a swift note of amusement rang. "She must truly be growing up. I was certain she'd insist you go up the mountain."

"In all fairness, she did say I should. You think not?" The drawn-out motions of the comb paused. Omine held her breath and very nearly jumped out of her skin as a clattering noise tore through the small room. Omasu's breathy chuckle followed.

"You should know, even if it turns out to be a painful truth, you should still know. A lifetime of wondering, of carrying around what might have beens," she trailed off and the comb returned to its previous pattern of movement. "Tomoharu-san is the superior choice in many respects. He has a comfortable home, a steady income and would keep you very well indeed. And he has a child; he will be, perhaps, more patient with you than any husband without a child might be."

"Or he might well be more impatient," Omine grumbled good-naturedly. Not that Omasu took note of that. "Do you think I would be a good mother?"

"We raised Misao, did we not?" Although, it might be more up to put it as they grew up together. The age difference between them had never been great.

"It was mostly your merit though," she offered a moment after. "Were it up to me, I'd have been perfectly content to let Misao run around as she pleased."

"Do you wish to be a mother then?" They rarely spoke of such matters. Not out of any prudish concern and neither out of a sense of superiority. One might assume women such as them, who has trained in more than the mere art of cooking a hearty meal and keeping the home , would not have such common desires, that they, at the very least, might wish for the glory of great deeds.

They never spoke of it because it was a sore spot rather. When they were training with knives and swords, other girls were sewing and embroidering, amassing a dowry by the work of their hands and making themselves the object of much admiration. They had mothers of their own to guide them safely through the rough waters of society and might even expect aid in selecting a proper mate.

"Wouldn't that be nice?" To have someone of her own with whom to share such a bond, Omine smiled absently at the thought. A more sobering notion invaded her mind just then. She might well wish for a babe of her own to hold and nurture, but it did not follow that the one who had her heart had thought of such. "Look at me, dreaming with my eyes open. One would think age'd work to cure that."

"Nothing wrong with a bit of dreaming," Omasu huffed from behind, indicating that she was done with the combing. Omine felt fingers in her hair, tugging and parting sections of it. "You should not have any regrets in this regard. But if the dream cannot be reached, you ought to let go with both hands."

A heavy braid was draped over her shoulder. The ribbon securing its end with its cheerful colour delayed the pain of her companion's words. Just as long as Omine did not think too deeply upon that and concentrated on the ribbon, she needn't acknowledge the very real possibility that her hopes had led her far astray and she would suffer all the more to see them proven wrong should that be the case. She exchanged her kimono for a far simpler yukata.

"For now, however," Omasu's voice came once more, "you must rest. Come, lie down. Before long morning will have come once more." And with that, the candle and its owner abandoned Omine to her thin mattress with its thick blanket and narrow pillow.

Left in the dark, she could do little but obey. The day's efforts finally caught up with her and she yawed in her sleeve. What the morrow might bring, she did not know, but hope had to be enough for the time being. Hope was all she had.


End file.
